


Elysium

by Lothlorienne



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fireworks, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothlorienne/pseuds/Lothlorienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Amis spend their New Year's Eve near the Champs-Élysées, as the night becomes illuminated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elysium

**Author's Note:**

> My holiday experience has been somewhat unsatisfactory and I'm feeling especially unlovable atm, so I decided to write a better scenario for my bby Grantaire. Hope you enjoy.

Elysium (ɪˈlɪzɪəm)  
n  
1\. Greek Mythology: The Elysian Fields, the abode of the blessed after death  
2\. a state or place of perfect bliss

We leave the house at ten to twelve. Combeferre has kept an eye on the clock at all times, but everyone having to use the bathroom has meant an unexpected delay of fifteen minutes. That's the effect of five bottles of champagne in a relatively short period of time - it seems like my companions had temporarily forgotten about the effects of alcohol. And now we'll have to seriously hurry up if we want to make it to the Champs-Élysées in time for the countdown.  
Musichetta smiles and mouths a 'thank you' as I hand her my gloves. Her own mittens are still inside, but she knows she shouldn't risk going back in now, with everyone already slightly on edge as it is.  
To me it's surprisingly enough not a stressful moment. I'm completely at ease and in tune with everything. I can feel the excitement in the air, like a buzz, like champagne, like we're young and alive and the promise of a brand new year bearing fresh opportunities lies just within our reach. Almost as if we're luminous. Sure, I know that realistically speaking I'll be no less of a fuck up than I've been the past few months and my enthusiasm will fade the moment I'm alone and undistracted once more, but for now I'm content to join the crowd and live in blissful ignorance.  
We really do need to get going, though.  
We've all gathered outside as Enjolras is the last of our company to exit, after making sure all the lights have been turned off. He locks the front door, jumps down the step, and joins trailblazer-of-the-evening-Bahorel at the front of the group. Feuilly and I naturally lag behind to close the ranks. Soon the consequences of our hurried departure become obvious: I can see Bossuet has forgotten his gloves, now walking in between his two lovers and warming his hands in their coat pockets. Courfeyrac loudly laments the fact he has forgotten the extra bag of pamphlets he had especially printed this morning, Cosette and Marius are sharing a scarf, Jehan apparently left the glow sticks in his bag at the house... I quickly pat myself down to make sure I've got everything I need.  
Soon enough I notice the blond curls at the beginning of the group come to a sudden halt. Enjolras is frantically searching his pockets as the others keep chatting and easily flow past him. Within seconds he has been side-stepped by the entire group. I stay behind to make sure we don't lose each other so early in the evening, breaching the gap between the herd and the one lost sheep.  
"I forgot my wallet..." he finally mumbles.  
I look to the end of the street - Feuilly and Jehan have slowed down and are looking back, figuring out what they should do. Enjolras glances up and sees the predicament.  
"I - guys! Hold up!"  
His voice, though clear and brilliant and demanding of attention, can't overpower the sheer ruckus the others are making as they hurry their way onwards and behind the bend. I also call out for them to wait. Feuilly and Jehan help by trying to draw the attention of the others, but they're forced to keep up. Jehan looks a bit distressed and holds up his hand in a universal "call me" gesture, before running after the rest and disappearing from sight. After that, only Enjolras and I are left in the darkened street. He gives me a curt nod before turning around and making his way back to his house. I quickly follow. We jog in silence for a few minutes.  
"Did you bring your phone?" he then asks. I shake my head. Left it at home in a spontaneous mood, deciding to feel more 'into the moment' instead of letting myself get distracted by a flood of 'HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!' type texts later on.  
Soon enough we've reached the front door and Enjolras is only slightly out of breath as he fumbles with the keys. "Stay close to me then. I'll contact the others."  
I nod and mean to follow him into the house, but he pushes me back, shaking his head. "No, for now you wait here. That'll be quicker."  
Not a minute later he's back outside, pretty much slamming the door shut and turning the key a few times. "Let's go!"  
We start jogging in what we think is more or less the right direction as we hear the sound of cracks and bangs in the air. He breathily mutters a curse. "Have they started? What time is it?"  
I look up, but see nothing but the ink black sky. "I don't know. Let's keep going."  
"Hold on."  
He stops and bends over a bit, putting his hands on his knees and taking a few deep breaths.  
"Need me to carry you?" I jest.  
"Just give me a minute, merde."  
I chuckle and look ahead. A few scattered groups of people are still rushing to the main street. Well, if we're late for the countdown, at least we won't be the only ones. Sure, we could probably see most of the fireworks from our current position, but we're still a few streets away from the actual hotspot.  
An 8-bit version of the ça ira starts playing and Enjolras reaches inside his pocket to retrieve his phone.  
"Joly! Yes, we're- JOLY. JOLY. YES I- HELLO? YES I CAN HEAR YOU. WE- YES I CAN HEAR YOU. CAN YOU HEAR ME. WE'RE BACK AT- JOLY. JOLY."  
I can't hold back my laughter and he sighs. Joly yells back the current location of the group and expresses his hope that Enjolras can hear him, because on the other end of the line it's apparently too noisy to understand any kind of reply.  
Enjolras hangs up and unbuttons his coat before nodding that okay, he's good to go. As soon as we resume our running, I see the first fireworks of the evening explode in the sky and the buildings in the street change colour in the golden flash.  
"Come on!" he yells, as if he isn't the exact reason for our tardiness. We run, thinking of the most direct route to the main attraction, which leads us to a small crowd of people leaning on crush barriers. Beyond them is a safe, open spot set up to light fireworks without risking injury. We'll have to find an alternative route to get to the bigger crowd. Enjolras, for once more familiar with these surroundings than I am, leads the way through an alley. He slips through the mass of people as I stumble and fall over an empty bottle in the dark. I shout for him on the way down. The stone is a cold and wet shock against the bare skin of my palms. Oh, this is peachy. Just peachy.  
I struggle to get back on my feet as people push past me. I hold my hands up, but the street is too narrow and too crowded to see much in the sparse light. At least I don't seem to be bleeding. I look up and somehow, almost miraculously, the tiny bit of light catches on a familiar head of blonde curls as Enjolras makes his way back looking for me.  
"Come on!" There is agitation in his tone, though no snippiness: tonight it's only the light-heartedness to be expected in celebratory settings. For a brief moment his voice reminds me of the golden drinks we had earlier. Hmm. "I told you to stay close to me."  
He swiftly takes my hand and pulls me onward. I duck my head and grin, though he's too focused on expertly weaving his way through the crowd to notice my reaction. The excitement I felt before, the sensation of floating on the buzz of a good meal and excellent company and the overall anticipation of a splendid night, multiplies in strength and I can feel an actual giddiness come over me. He's not wearing gloves either. All night this touch-deprived downer has zeroed in on the casual touches of friends - welcome kisses and/or hugs from all, the small cuddle pile in front of the tv Courf and Bossuet had started, Eponine straigtening my clothes before grinning and flicking my nose, Bahorel shushing and wrestling the knife from my grip when I wasn't cutting the paprika right, a slightly intoxicated Marius touching my stubble and Feuilly carefully pressing a paper hat on my hair... but this must be the grand apotheosis of all the touches I've been craving.  
We reach the open and his fingers shift their position, to interlace with mine and provide a firmer grip. The crowd has been gathering for a few hours, giving the party enough time to build and evolve into a roaring sea of people. There's a rampant but pleasant atmosphere all around, as participants of the festivities edge closer to defining a feast of bacchanalian proportions. I let my gaze wander as Enjolras resolutely drags me through the mass. The streetlights are spreading their glow and the trees have been decorated with fairy lights. In the distance, I can see the Eiffel Tower's light show has already begun. Music is playing over speakers. People are dancing and drinking and singing along, all looking up at the sky.  
All but Enjolras. With his free hand he's searching for his phone again, trying to reach our friends so we can meet up somewhere. Missing out on the splendour happening all around him.  
I tug him back a bit, my lifeline, my one connection in the middle of the boisterous gathering of strangers.  
"Grantaire? What-"  
"You're missing the spectacle!"  
"But-" He holds up his phone.  
I shake my head. Tug him closer.  
"Just watch."  
He sighs, but I catch him hiding a smile as he puts his phone back in his pocket, keeping a hand there to make sure nothing gets stolen. Then he takes a moment to stand with me, next to me, side by side, as we become part of the throng, thousands upon thousands of people united as one as we all look up and marvel at the light show. Everywhere around us the sound of singing and laughter and drunken babbling continues, joined with oohs and aahs as more fireworks are lit and the vibrant, multicolour glow illuminates the sea of faces. Him and I remain silent. In the middle of the wild rumpus we've stumbled upon a sanctuary. The characteristic booms of the fireworks resound within me and it's a sensation of soaring euphoria. I wonder if Enjolras' heart echoes that very same beating.  
After a few seconds, minutes, hours of careless drifting in this perfectly simple moment, I decide I have seen enough of the light show and glance to my side instead. He still watches, peacefully enraptured, soft colours painting the angelic face that is tilted up towards the vast and endless sky.  
That instant, he looks more beautiful than ever before.  
He somehow notices my attention has shifted and turns to look at me. Shit. I'm awestruck. Completely awestruck. He squeezes my hand, and it's a question.  
"Joyeux Noël," I blurt out.  
He smiles. "et une bonne année."

**Author's Note:**

> *whispers* L('Avenue d)es Champs-Élysées is apparently the place to be at the start of the new year. The name is French for Elysian Fields. It seemed appropriate.  
> This fic was partly based on the traditions of my own city, and tough I did some online research I'm not actually Parisian myself, so please forgive me if my fantasy descriptions diverge from the real thing ;]


End file.
